


to have his ear

by ivefoundmygoldfish (melonpanparade)



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Misunderstandings, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 13:19:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11253762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonpanparade/pseuds/ivefoundmygoldfish
Summary: Have someone’s ear: (1) obtain someone’s attention, especially favourable attention. (2) to be able to talk and give advice to a person because one is trusted by him or her.





	to have his ear

**Author's Note:**

> Hello after 1.5 years of nothing.

* * *

_Have someone’s ear: (1) obtain someone’s attention, especially favourable attention. (2) to be able to talk and give advice to a person because one is trusted by him or her._

* * *

 

“Galahad? Galahad, answer me!”

For the nth time, Merlin wishes for some kind of live video feed—a CCTV or a private security camera he can hack into—just _something_ to let him know how his friend and former partner is faring. His fingers tap away at the keyboard, frantically searching once more, but the result remains the same: Harry’s current location is devoid of both.

Of course the worst would happen on his first mission assigned as Harry’s handler.

Since Harry’s button camera perished forty minutes into their current mission, Merlin has only been able to maintain audio contact. Earlier, revving motors, frenzied yelling, bodily thumps, and laboured breathing had filtered through. Enough for him to discern Harry’s involvement in a fight; not enough not enough to ascertain the extent of damage inflicted on Harry.

And then there had been silence.

Merlin thumps the seat of the van in frustration, taking care not to damage any of the extra equipment in the vehicle, installed especially for this mission. Not that the equipment HQ gave him to work with has proven to be particularly useful so far.

Fucking useless HQ.

Gritting his teeth, Merlin fiddles with a few more knobs to try and enhance the transmitter in Harry’s microphone. His hands are shaking. It takes a few more combinations before he hears a crackling through his headset.

“Harry, can you hear me? Say something!”

“Mmmph.”  

Merlin breathes a sigh of relief. “Are you hurt?”

A long pause, punctuated only by dry coughs.   

When the coughing subsides, Harry croaks out, “You called me Harry. You never call me Harry.”

“Harry Hart, if you don’t fucking tell me—”

“Merlin, I’m fine. Just a little disorientated.” Harry chuckles, and then there’s a sharp intake of breath, and a few choice swear words crackle over the speakers. “Although I can’t bend my arm. That bastard really did a number on it, but he couldn’t get his hands on the data chip.”

“What happened?”

“I’ll explain later.”

Merlin frowns. “As long as you’re safe now. We shouldn’t stick around here any longer than we have to. Do you think you can make it to the rendezvous point?”

“I’ll need directions.”

“On it.” Keeping an eye on Harry’s location on the map on the left of his laptop screen, his fingers fly over the keyboard, hacking into the cameras surrounding the rendezvous point to calculate the most efficient route for Harry’s retrieval. “Turn left at the next alleyway, and once you reach the end, take a right. 500 metres down, there’s a clump of trees and shrubbery next to the warehouse—the van is parked there.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Be careful, I don’t have a visual on the whole route, and I can’t get any closer without being detected.”

From the rustling of Harry’s clothing and the stationary dot on his monitor, Merlin knows Harry is performing a routine check before dashing into the alleyway.

Eight minutes and 34 seconds later—and he’d never admit it, but Merlin counted every second of it—Harry slides into the front seat, looking worse for wear.

“Let’s get out of here,” he rasps.

Concerned, Merlin gives Harry a quick once-over. Seemingly satisfied, he grunts in affirmation and revs the van to life. Eventually, Harry’s laboured breathing eases into something quiet and calm, and Merlin takes comfort in seeing the steady rise and fall of Harry’s chest in his peripheral vision.

They’re just two blocks away from HQ when Harry breaks the silence. “I found it significantly preferable when you were out in the field with me.”

Something deep inside clenches painfully. The feeling is overwhelming, and Merlin grasps at words, trying to find a way to express himself without leaving himself exposed and vulnerable. Slowly, he says, “You know my—skills are of more use to Kingsman at tactical operations.”

“So we’ve been told.”

His tone is bitter, and Merlin knows they’re both recalling the meeting where Arthur announced Merlin’s reassignment to the rest of the Knights. Merlin had approached Harry afterwards to explain what this meant for their unofficial partnership. Harry hadn’t wanted to listen. Up until now, neither of them had broached the subject.

It’s been the most draining fortnight since he joined Kingsman. And all he wants to do is tell Harry how much he longs those days they worked as partners out on the field.

But he can’t. No, he _won’t._

“I can monitor the situation—monitor _you_ better this way.” It’s something Merlin desperately wants to believe, _needs_ to believe, but if today is any indication, it’s not the truth. Not yet, but soon.

“That’s bullshit,” Harry says, cutting his eyes to Merlin. Merlin purposely keeps his gaze on the road. “You think you’d do a better job when you’re not by my side? When you don’t have my back?”

Valid questions echoing the thoughts that have lurked at the forefront of his mind since he’d purposefully approached Arthur, reciting his well-rehearsed reasons detailing why he’d make a more valuable contribution to the organisation as a part of Research and Development, and as a handler for the Knights. His experience in the field only added to his existing capabilities.

It hadn’t taken much convincing. After all, before his inauguration he’d been offered the choice between an assignation in R&D or a Knight, and unprecedented event in the history of Kingsman. Taken in by the allure of the fast-paced, physical action, he’d chosen the latter.

There had been no regrets, until The Disastrous Mission carried out together with Harry just three weeks prior. The objectives were completed—barely, and only because of their competency and Harry’s ingenuity—but at the cost of Merlin’s trust in handlers. (Several days later, the handler in question had been reassigned to another department of Kingsman, where they didn’t have people’s lives in their hands.)

The turn of events had lead up to his decision to offer his sought-after skills to the organisation, but on one condition: he would be assigned as Harry’s default handler, presented to Harry under an official guise. There would be no mention of Merlin’s part in orchestrating the arrangements.

Of course, Arthur had conditions of his own: as part of the tests to reconfirm his suitability for the position, he would need to demonstrate his competency to act as handler for other Knights too, and could be called upon when necessary.

Merlin should have felt a sense of relief when his proposal was accepted and he met Arthur’s conditions with flying colours, but instead, a strange sense of betrayal weighed heavy in his chest, and has stayed there ever since.

Quashing the uncomfortable, tight feeling, Merlin pulls into HQ’s driveway and brings the vehicle to a stop. He flicks his eyes to gauge Harry’s feelings—and stops short at what he sees. Yes, there’s anger there, confusion too, but it’s the sadness that gets to him the most.

“I may not be at by your side, at least not physically,” replies Merlin, his voice catching slightly. “But now, I can be your eyes, your ears, your feet for places you need to go, for places you shouldn’t go. To the best of my ability, I’ll always be with you—monitoring you, communicating with you.”

Merlin looks away, slightly embarrassed after speaking his rationale aloud for the first time. He hasn’t told Harry everything, but it’s a damn near thing.  

He doesn’t expect the sudden laughter, ringing loud in the enclosed space.

“Hell, Merlin, when you put it like that, it sounds positively creepy.” Harry grins, and the corners of his eyes crinkle. “But since you’ve been honest with me, I’ll be honest with you: there’s no one I’d trust more than you to be my handler.”

Something warm and bright unfurls from the bottom of Merlin’s stomach, spiralling throughout his being, and immediately he feels lighter. Happier. “You don’t—mind?”

“Of course I mind, you idiot. I’m still not sure how I feel about having your voice in my ear. A bit distracting, don’t you think?” Without waiting for a response, Harry continues. “Some people might even call it… intimate.” 

“Fuck off.”  

Harry’s smile only grows wider. “You, whispering sweet nothings in my ear without anyone to overhear.”

The noise Merlin makes is somewhere between a strangled laugh and a groan. “I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?”

“Never. You’re stuck with me now.”

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Merlin nods. He couldn’t wish for anything more.

**Author's Note:**

> Definitions from _thefreedictionary_ and _merriam-webster_.


End file.
